


I Know How It Seems (Between You and Me)

by starsontheceiling



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Mild Angst, S07E15: The Wedding, Season/Series 07, That's ok, They'll figure it out, finally having a proper discussion about s6, he's in love and not very good at it, mostly on Josh's part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsontheceiling/pseuds/starsontheceiling
Summary: “I’m not even sure we’re friends.”“Well how would you describe us?”“I don’t think about it much, to be honest.”Josh gets overwhelmed at Ellie's wedding.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 18
Kudos: 137





	I Know How It Seems (Between You and Me)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Josh and Donna fic I've completed. It's also the first I started, right after I saw 'The Wedding'. Consequently, it isn't canon compliant with the rest of season seven, mostly because it features a marginally more emotionally-intelligent Josh. Although, I will admit, the bar on that one is pretty low.
> 
> It also includes a Josh whose mental illness wasn't forgotten sometime after season two, with a brief mention of a panic attack. There isn't anything particularly descriptive but I thought I'd mention it just in case that's something anyone wants to avoid.
> 
> Thanks a hundred times over to aeoleus for beta-ing this very quickly. I'm sorry I ignored almost every time you suggested another comma. If you're in the middle of the West Wing - AtLA fandom venn diagram then please check out her works!!

It’s late in the evening when the feeling that he can’t breathe starts to get truly overwhelming. 

Josh has been lurking at the edges of the party for the last hour or so, just observing. The President had disappeared with CJ and Kate right after the ceremony but they’d returned after almost two hours. It was hard to get a read on their moods but the fact they were back at all had to be a good thing - Josh remembers how it goes. 

CJ is talking to Donna, Carol and Margaret at the far side of the room, obviously gossiping about Will and Kate, who were dancing together and had been glued to each other since she’d gotten back. When had that happened? 

_I’ve missed a lot_ , _since I left_ , Josh muses to himself, looking over at Charlie and Zoë. The two of them are sat in a far corner, their heads close together. It reminds Josh of him and Donna, back before everything seemed to fall apart. Although, of course, him and Donna wouldn’t have been holding hands. 

_Well, good for them,_ he thinks. _They found their way back to each other._

The President is sat with Leo, both of them glowering at Lord John, who is currently twirling Abbey around the room. Josh can’t help but laugh at that but then the music swells and suddenly all he can think of is Yo-Yo Ma. 

He flees the ballroom. 

He doesn’t quite know why he ends up at his old office; the habit of seven years perhaps? The bullpen is dark and quiet. His door is locked, but by some miracle the key to his office Donna hid long ago is still there, taped to the underside of her desk drawer. 

As soon as he shuts the door, dampening the music even further, he realises how loud his breathing is. He tries to steady it but it only seems to make things worse. The stress of the day and the campaign and the ad buys and Illinois threaten to smother him.

He isn’t an idiot; he knows Santos barely trusts him. The majority of Democratic Party seem convinced Josh is about to fail them all. Perhaps they’re right, maybe he just isn’t the man for the job. After all, he needed Leo to help him figure out the ads budget. 

They’re six weeks away and seven points down and his world is crashing down around his ears. 

The Santos thing is bad enough, but even more troubling are his erstwhile colleagues. What happened to them all? Their weird and wonderful group; these people he used to trust to have his back to matter what. Sure, they used to bicker and fight and yell but he knew he could count on them when it truly mattered. He realises with a sickening feeling that he’s no longer sure if that’s true. CJ barely has time to talk to him, Toby probably hates him and he can’t remember the last time he spoke to Sam. He doesn’t even want to think about Donna. 

Except that isn’t true, because every spare moment that isn’t occupied with the campaign (not that there’s many) she’s all he can think about. _DonnaDonnaDonna_. Not that that particular problem is anything new. In the last nine years it’s nearly always been her that his mind drifts to in quiet moments.

_Donna looked nice today. Does she have a new perfume? Donna was disappointed in me today. Donna got a haircut, it suits her. Donna said I looked handsome. I wonder if Donna’s skin is as soft as it looks. How would she react if I kissed her one day? DonnaDonnaDonna._

Except everything is different now. He behaved unforgivably, and she left.

And he didn’t even try to get her back.

Toby told him to.

Oh God, Toby.

Stupid, arrogant, angry Toby. 

Toby, who noticed him falling apart at that stupid cello concert, who brought him beer and watched baseball games with him while his chest knit itself back together. Toby, who was hurt when Josh left him to pick the new candidate but refused to admit it. Toby, who helped him build Bartlett into a President. The one person who might understand what it was like to be doubted by a man he’d sacrificed everything for. Toby, who he fought and argued with but never truly wanted to hurt, until he threw a stack of folders at him. 

The sick feeling is back.

He rubs his face and ignores the twinge in his side. Being away from his own bed, with its obscenely expensive mattress, always makes the pain flare up. Not that he’s been doing much sleeping lately; doesn’t have an assistant who threatens to cancel all his meetings unless he gets at least four hours sleep.

And now he’s back at Donna.

Things are better between them now than they were but he doesn’t know if they’ll ever get back to how they used to be. Not that he’d want her as his assistant any more… Ok well he kind of does but not _really_. She’s beyond that now, she has been for years — and therein lies their whole problem — but it’s not like their relationship was reliant on their boss-assistant dynamic. There’s some universe where she quit and they parted on good terms and they’re still friends; where they banter and just barely cross the line between teasing and outright flirting, or even one where they do. Instead he’s stuck in this reality, where he can barely look at her without his chest imploding; his scar becoming a black hole that consumes his lungs and heart and doesn’t stop until he’s filled with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not like she’s ever been an _uncomplicated_ presence, but once upon a time at least she had been somewhat calming; Donna was here, with him again, all was right with the world. As girly and ridiculous as it sounds it was like he lit up inside when he saw her, but now… 

Gaza. 

Germany. 

Him ignoring her pleas for lunch. 

Her leaving. 

Not calling her. 

Finding out she was working for Bingo Bob had been like someone pouring salt in his wounds. Then she asked for a job and he pulled out that stupid folder, as if he were reading out of it every time she bad mouthed the Santos campaign. He cringes whenever he remembers it, can’t believe she didn’t call him out on it. Does the fact he actually had them memorised make it better or worse? He can’t tell. 

The door opens and he jerks upright.

“Josh?”

Of course it’s Donna.

“How’d you find me?” If his voice sounds strange she doesn’t acknowledge it in any way.

“I saw you slip out. I thought maybe you were just going to the bathroom but then you didn’t come back. The front desk said you hadn’t left. Figured you might be here.” 

_Of course she knew where to find me._ “Didn’t think you were paying me that much attention.”

She laughs but there’s no real humour in it. “I’m always paying attention to you, Josh.” Despite the low light Josh can see her blush. She thinks she’s revealed more than she meant to with that statement but it isn’t really a surprise to him. He feels the same way about her. 

“Yeah well, you can go back to the party. Think I might head home.”

“To sleep?” She asks, sharply.

“What do you care? You don’t have control of my calendar anymore.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends are allowed to care about each other’s sleep deprivation.” She attempts a smile.

“I’m not sleep deprived.”

“When was the last time you slept more than two hours?”

He ignores the question. “I’m not even sure we’re friends.” She flinches at that, turns her head away and he pretends it didn’t hurt him to say it. 

“Well how would you describe us?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think about it much, to be honest.” _Liar_.

Her shoulders slump in defeat and he feels bad. They’ve both been trying, her more than him, but he’s just so tired and the music and the stress of the campaign and he feels like he’s drowning and he’s so sick of pretending that they can be casual friends, like he isn’t still so hurt by her leaving even though he has no real right to be and hates himself for it, like it isn’t slowly killing him that even after everything, underneath all that bitterness, his insides still light up when he sees her. It’s like a goddamn pavlovian response. 

“Well go home and brood there then, instead of in an office that isn’t even yours anymore. I’m going back to the party.” She turns and yanks the door open and panic rises in his chest. Before he can stop himself he blurts it out.

“It’s the music!”

“What?” She pauses, half way out the door and looks back at him. “It’s the music, I can’t. I couldn’t breath in there and I think, I think,” to his horror, his voice cracks.

“Stand against the wall.”

She’s shut the door again but his relief is overwhelmed by his confusion. “What?” 

“You’re having a panic attack, stand against the wall like you used. Like Stanley told you to.”

“Donna I’m not-“

“Joshua.” Her tone brokers no argument. 

He goes to stand against the wall.

Once upon a time she wouldn’t have waited for him to argue; would have just dragged him over. She moves away from the door and he tries to content himself with the knowledge that at least she’s still worried about him, even as she carefully keeps the physical distance between them. 

Her eyes flicker over his face and even in the low light of the room her gaze is too intense. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on slowing down his breathing.

“Did you have a flashback to Rosslyn?” Her voice is gentle but it still makes him jump, antsy as he is.

“No. It wasn’t that bad. It’s just. God…” He trails off, unable to articulate the storm inside his head. 

“You’re upset you didn’t predict Illinois?”

“Of course I am!” His eyes snap open and he pushes off the wall, starting to pace but before he can really get started Donna interrupts.

“Wall.”

“I should have known!”

“Josh.”

“And we’re running on fumes for the ad-buys and everyone is just waiting for me to crash and burn-”

“Joshua!” She grabs his arm and it feels like an electric shock. It’s the first time they’ve touched in months and it completely derails his train of thought. He just stares at her hand wrapped around his elbow, fingers pale against the black of his jacket. She must have painted her nails for the wedding, the colour matches her dress. She slowly releases him from her grip and he silently goes to stand back against the wall. 

He can feel the echo of her touch like a phantom limb. 

“Is it just the campaign?” She’s leant up against his desk, not as far away as she could be but still just out of reach.

“Yes. No. It’s everything.” _You_ . “The President getting sicker.” _You_ . “Santos doesn’t trust me.” _You_. “Toby.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Yeah. I went to see him. I know it was stupid, I just wanted… I don’t even know what I expected.”

“Did he tell you why he did it?”

“No.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I know he didn’t always agree with the President but I don’t understand how he could do that.” She sighs. “Do you think it was because of his brother?”

“Maybe.” It’s another lie, Josh doesn’t think that’s the reason but who knows. He looks at Donna and wonders how people he was once so certain of have become strangers to him. “Or maybe none of us ever really knew him.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Except this nonsense that Santos doesn’t trust you.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh bitterly. “It’s not nonsense. Don’t lie to me, Donna. I know you can see it too. You’re too observant to miss it.”

“Then he’s an idiot.” He’s surprised by how angry she sounds. “He owes his entire campaign to you, so what if you made a mistake with Illinois? Anyone would have made the same call as you.”

He stares at her in shock and it occurs to him that it’s the second time she’s come to find him today, that she deliberately sought him out. He’d been so sure she’d only come to the campaign just for her career, that making nice with him was an unfortunate necessity. For the first time he wonders if perhaps they could properly salvage the ineffable thing between them. 

“I’m so tired I can barely think straight,” he finally admits, “but every time I lie down I can’t sleep.”

“Brain won’t shut off?”

“Yeah.” For a moment he debates whether he should tell her but in the end he’s helpless against the concern in her eyes. “And my chest. The motel beds have done a number on it.”

“God, tell me about it.” She rubs her leg almost reflexively. 

_Lyman, you’re a fucking idiot;_ he’d completely forgotten about her leg.

“You should sit down properly.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Donna, I’m serious.”

“I might take my heels off.” She finally concedes.

“I’m surprised you can even wear them.”

Her face is shielded by her hair but he’d wager she rolls her eyes again as she undoes the straps on her shoes. “Beauty standards are a thing, Josh. Women are expected to wear them.” She stands, back to being several inches shorter than him. He’s always taken aback by barefooted Donna, so used to being able to look her straight in the eye. “Besides,” she says with a mischievous grin, “they make my legs look _really_ good, don’t you think?”

He swallows and despite the way his stomach clenches, it’s the easiest he’s been able to breathe for hours.

“Point well-made.” He smiles back at her and he can see the relief on her face at their return to almost-flirting.

He steels himself to ruin the calm that’s returned, but if they don’t talk about it now, he doesn’t know when they’ll next get the chance. There’s a part of him that’s worried that as soon as they leave their quiet sanctuary the spell will be broken, and they’ll be back to being uneasy colleagues. He doesn’t want to take that risk. They need to talk about it. 

“I lied before.” He says, his voice quieter than he intended. She looks confused. “When I said I don’t spend much time thinking about what we are.”

“Josh…” He can’t tell if she wants him to stop but he forces himself to go on regardless.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t think we were friends. I don’t know what we are to each other any more.” She looks down and he takes a deep breath. “I would like to be but if you don’t, then I understand. If you can’t forgive me, I mean.”

“Of course I want to be friends, Josh.” It’s hard to tell but he thinks she’s about to cry. “I don’t know how not to care about you.” His relief is so overwhelming he almost misses what she says next. “I just don’t know if you actually understand what you did wrong.”

_Of course I do. It’s all I can think about whenever I close my eyes; all the ways I let you down._

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. She sighs and looks away.

He tries again. “So tell me.” That’s something that has been a constant in their relationship, him messing up and letting Donna tell him off. He knows it’s part of how she forgives him, their little ritual.

“You never let me progress in my career, you can’t honestly think I just wanted to run around after you, being an assistant my whole -“

“Senior assistant.”

She huffs and it makes her fringe float upwards but otherwise carries on as if he’d never spoken. “Being an assistant my whole life. I finally pestered you into letting me go to Gaza and then when I came back it was like nothing had changed, I was just back to being Donna, always in your shadow and you couldn’t even be bothered to have lunch with me! 

I wanted more from my life but you didn’t even care if I was fulfilled, as long as I was making your life easier! You just assumed I would always be there, waiting for you. And then when I left, you never reached out, and when we saw each other you acted like I’d done something unforgivable, rather than just look out for myself for once.” She’s stood up straight as she talks, gesticulating, all the frustration of the last six months pouring out of her while he stands there and takes it. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

It takes him a moment to organise his thoughts. “You’re wrong that I didn’t care about you or your career. I did. I do. It’s just…” He can’t believe they’re talking about this at last. “After Gaza, Donna, you have no idea what it was like.”

“Of course I do.” She snaps.

“Sorry, that was stupid of me.”

“You can say that again.”

“Sorry, that was stupid of me.” 

Despite herself, she softens and he gives her a small, hopeful smile. 

“When I heard it was like my whole world had come apart. As soon as Leo told me I could go, I couldn’t move fast enough.” The topic reminds him of another conversation in his office, five years ago. _If you were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for red lights._ He wonders how he’s been so convinced he could never forgive her; after all they’ve been through. She’s here, she’s alive, and she left but she keeps coming back to him. He clears his throat and continues. “I flew half way around the world, going out of my mind and then there was that stupid Irishman.” He groans at the memory. “God, you really do have the worst taste in men.” 

“At least he wasn’t a Republican.”

He snorts at that. “Yeah, well. And then you were back and it wasn’t that I didn’t care about you feeling unfulfilled but I’d come so close to…” he can’t even say it, his throat feels like it’s closing up. “The idea of never getting to see you again, I just… I was selfish, I know. Getting to see you every day, I didn’t know how to give it up. So I pretended everything was fine, even though it obviously wasn’t. And then you left anyway.”

“I’m not going to apologise for that.”

“I don’t want you to,” and to his surprise he realises it’s the truth. It’s strangely liberating. “I know I should have talked to you, I just was so busy and I thought you must hate me and I didn’t know how to fix things and,” he pauses, looks down at his feet. “I know I had no right to be, but I was hurt. When you left.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“How can you think I wouldn’t be-”

“No,” she corrects herself quickly, “I meant that you did have a right to be hurt. I said I wasn’t going to apologise for leaving, and I won’t, but perhaps I need to for how I left.”

“I forgive you.” He says it so fast he almost trips up over the words. She laughs.

“I haven’t even apologised yet.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Well, I am sorry. I think we both could have behaved better.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“Look at us, talking things through like adults.” She smiles at him but then it slips. “You know, I got my hopes up, after Germany. I thought maybe even if I quit perhaps there was a way we could still see each other. That maybe…” She blushes, looks down at her hands. “I think that’s part of why I went so scorched earth. I was embarrassed I’d let myself think that. Again.”

The moment feels as fragile as spun glass. 

“Donna, you were my assistant.”

“Don’t remind me.” Her voice sounds watery.

“You know what they would say about you, if we were, if we’d… I never wanted to do that to you.”

“Josh Lyman, secretly a gentleman.” The lightness in her voice is so obviously forced. 

“Donna, I’m serious. If I’d realised that was on the table I’d have dropped everything so fast.” He's desperate to make her understand, can't believe she didn't already know. He feels like it's been written all over his face every time he's spoken to her this past year.

“Really?” She’s drifting closer to him.

“You didn’t honestly miss how gone I’ve been for you for years?”

She shrugs. “I figured it was just convenience. That the flirting was just because it was fun.”

“Well,” he dimples, “it was a lot of fun.”

She’s standing in front of him now. “Yeah. It was. We had some good times here, didn’t we?” She’s so close he could count her eyelashes if the light was better. It takes great effort for him to speak instead of just kissing her. 

“Donna, I want…”

“Yes, Josh?” She’s got her arms around his neck now and in spite of himself his hands are on her waist.

“I want to do this properly.”

She laughs at him. “What, wine and dine me?”

“I haven’t slept in two days, the campaign consumes my every waking moment, I barely have time to shower and shave in the morning. You think we’re going to get more than 15 minutes to ourselves until November?”

“Josh, I don’t care about that-”

“But I do.” He says, mulishly. “I want to treat you right, Donna. We’ve been waiting almost nine years, what’s another six weeks?”

She sighs and puts her head on his shoulder. “You think you’ll have more time in six weeks? I know you Josh, there’s always going to be something to do once we win.”

“I _promise_ I will make time for you,” he insists, and softly nudges her so she’s looking at him again, “no matter what, eighth of November, you and me.”

“Not the seventh?” She teases gently.

“Well, I’m hoping we’ll have some celebrating to do.”

“Of course.” She looks up at him and it takes all his self-control not to immediately go back on everything he’s just said. “Could we not have tonight though?”

He groans and drops his head against the wall in an attempt to put some distance between them without actually letting go of her. “Donna if I kiss you now, I’m not going to be able to stop.” 

“Oh.”

“And despite all the fantasies I had about it, I don’t really want our first time to be on my desk.”

“It’s not even your desk any more.” She points out, with a giggle.

“Even worse.”

“We could go back to your apartment?”

“You remember the part where I said I hadn’t slept in two days? The only in-bed activity I’m capable of right now is sleep.”

She wets her bottom lip and he immediately reassesses. “I bet I could convince you otherwise.”

“I bet you could, but it would not be up to my usual standards.” He decides she deserves a little retribution for the way she’s pressed up against him. He shifts forward so that he’s so close to kissing her he can feel her breath on his lips. He lowers his voice. “And when I finally take you to bed, _Donnatella_ , I am going to take my time with you. It will be worth the wait.”

She blinks at him, looking almost dazed and he smirks. It breaks the spell immediately and she pulls away, rolling her eyes.

“You’re all talk, Lyman.” She’s grinning at him and she’s forgiven him and she’s in a beautiful dress and they’re in his office and it’s a thousand of his guilty day dreams come to life.

He kisses her. 

Time melts away; his world has shrunk to Donna pressed up against him, his hands on her waist and hers in his hair, her mouth warm and soft. It’s like coming up for air, like sunlight after a storm.

It’s like coming home.

Eventually, she pulls back a fraction, breathless. “I thought you wanted,” she gives him a short kiss, “wanted to wait?”

“A man’s self-control can only take so much.” He pulls her back in and it’s slower this time, less urgent. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

“Me too.” She says, and rests her forehead against his. He drinks her in, feels drunk on her. He could rhapsodise on how it feels to finally have her in his arms and wonders if this is how Toby feels when he writes; like a man possessed.

“We should probably go.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Probably.”

They stay like that for several more long minutes, clinging to each other in the dark.

The bullpen is thankfully deserted when they finally leave and Josh reluctantly tapes the key back under Donna’s old desk as she puts her shoes back on.

“This really wasn’t secure.”

“Are you seriously complaining about something I did eight years ago?”

“I’m just _saying_ that -”

“Sorry, have you forgotten how many times you forgot your key in the beginning?”

Their bickering takes them all the way to the taxi rank. Josh opens the door for Donna and without thinking climbs in after her. 

“Where to?”

Josh starts to reel off Donna’s address but she immediately interrupts him.

“No, I’m at the hotel with the rest of the staff. I’m subletting my apartment.” He goggles at her but she just rolls her eyes. “Not all of us can afford to keep renting an apartment they don’t live in, Josh.”

He gives the taxi driver his address.

“I thought you said we shouldn’t…”

“Not for that!” He protests and glances in the rear-view mirror at the taxi driver, who is definitely suppressing a grin. “You can have the spare room, borrow some of my stuff to sleep in.”

“Like after Rosslyn.”

“Yeah.”

The drive back to Josh’s apartment is spent in silence, both too aware of the taxi driver to speak but a few minutes into the drive Donna slides her hand across the centre seat. Josh can take a hint; her hand is cooler than his and so soft. He’s so preoccupied with how miraculous it feels to be holding her hand at all the journey seems to take no time at all.

When they arrive Donna shivers as he pays the fare. Josh, swept up in romantic rapture, tips the cab driver far more than he normally would. He immediately regrets this when the driver winks and wishes him “a _very_ good evening” with a pointed look at Donna.

He’s still glowering after the car when Donna takes his arm. “Josh. I’m freezing”

“Right!” He fumbles with the keys, suddenly unaccountably nervous. Donna’s been to his apartment dozens of times. Hell, she basically lived there for the months following the shooting; why is he suddenly shaking?

She leans her head against his shoulder as he puts the key in the lock and he takes a deep, steadying breath. “Home sweet home.”

She looks around, her expression unreadable. He tries to look at his place through her eyes and wonders what she sees.

“I only dropped off my stuff earlier. Haven’t really been here in months.”

“I haven’t been here in years.” She says softly. “It looks the same.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “you did such a good job helping me decorate, why change it?” She laughs, pleased and he smiles. “Do you want a drink of anything? I have some coffee.”

“I’m alright. Water, maybe?”

“Sure, let me take your coat?”

He helps her remove it and can’t help himself placing a gentle kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. The light smell of her perfume is stronger there and he lingers a moment longer than he intended.

“Josh?”

“Sorry!” He almost drops her coat in his hurry to step away from her. She’s got a half smile on her face and he turns away, uncertain why he’s suddenly so anxious. Everything had gone perfectly in the office and they’ve already established that although she’s spending the night she isn’t _spending the night_. Why is his heart going a hundred miles an hour?

“I’ll get you your water. Check the bottom drawer in the spare room. Should be some stuff there.” He practically runs into the kitchen.

He runs the cold tap and sticks his hands under the flowing water, an old calming trick from his childhood therapist. The sound of the water masks Donna’s footprints and he jerks with surprise when she wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head against his back.

“This is the stuff I used to wear after Rosslyn.” 

He wishes he could see her, he can’t read her voice at all.

“Yeah.”

“You kept it separate?”

He’d shrug but he doesn’t want to dislodge her. “I always thought of it as yours, afterwards. I have enough old shirts that I could wear, so…” He trails off.

“It never bothered Amy?”

“It’s not like she ever went into the guest bedroom.”

“Right.”

Josh wants to die. He’s somehow managed to ruin things in under an hour, that’s got to be a new record. He groans inwardly and pulls his now numb hands out from under the water. “I just need to get the Britta.”

“What’s stopping you?” Donna says, muffled against his back. He puts his hands over hers and she yelps, pulling away from him. “You’re the worst!”

He can’t respond, too busy staring at her. She’s barefoot, in one of his old Yale shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts with the waist pulled as tight as it goes, although they’re still loose on her. There’s something about the sight of her in his clothes, knowing she’s wearing them because she’s staying with him, that has short-circuited his brain.

“Earth to Josh?”

“Sorry. I, just, wow?”

She blushes and ducks her head. “I look ridiculous.”

“Believe me when I say that is not true.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

She steps forward and kisses him. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do with his still wet hands but when she murmurs his name against his lips he gives up and places them on her waist. He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, just kissing in his kitchen, like something out of his most domestic daydreams but he eventually notices she’s started to shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

He makes the mistake of glancing at the clock on the microwave. “It’s so late.”

“Time for bed?”

“Yeah. There’s a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. I’ll get your water.” He gives her another brief kiss before turning to the fridge. He changes while she’s in the bathroom and the water is filtering. He’s just putting her glass on the nightstand when she pads into the bedroom.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Find everything alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, well, I’ll say goodnight then.”

He gives her what is meant to be a soft kiss on his way out but ends up clinging to her almost desperately. He’s almost out of breath once it ends. He’s so close to asking her not to sleep in the spare room but when he speaks what comes out instead is, “Um, goodnight Donna.”

“Sweet dreams, Josh.” He can’t help but notice that she looks disappointed but he doesn’t know how to undo this predicament he’s got himself into so he just presses on.

“You too.”

She’s still lingering in the doorway when he closes the bathroom door. He drops his head against it and tries to slow down his heart. He stays there for a long moment before eventually turning to brush his teeth. The harsh lighting of the bathroom isn’t doing him any favours and as he stares at his reflection he can’t help but wonder what it is she sees in him, an emotionally inept, traumatised, workaholic twelve years her senior. 

When he finally leaves the bathroom, the last flicker of hope he had of getting her to join him dies at the sight of the shut guest room door. 

Sleep does not come easy, his bed feels almost too comfortable after weeks of motel stays. He wonders if Donna is asleep. There’s a creak and he’s suddenly on high alert, his ears straining. Is that Donna, come to ask if she can join him? Several more long minutes go by and he resigns himself to sleeping alone but then there’s another. He wrestles with himself for a moment until it occurs to him that Donna came to seek him out twice today. He could return the favour at least once, right? And if he’s wrong and she’s already asleep, so what? He’ll just come back to bed, and if she is awake then, well, all the better. 

Armed with this little prep talk he steels himself, pulls open his bedroom door and comes face to face with Donna. Her eyes widen comically.

“Donna.”

“Sorry, I was just, um—”

“I was coming to ask if you wanted to share.” He blurts out. “The bed I mean.”

She sags with relief. “I’d like that.”

He can’t help the smile that breaks out and she smiles back at him. His earlier panicking feels ridiculous. It’s _Donna_ , she’s not going to hold his anxiety against him.

They get into bed and when he tentatively lifts his arm she immediately snuggles into him. Part of him had expected that her presence would have him too keyed up to sleep (in an entirely different way than before) but to his surprise he finds sleep quickly starts to claim him. 

She’s warm and soft and smells so good and he feels so safe and calm, in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“Back at the office, you said you’d been waiting nine years.” Donna’s voice is soft but it startles him a little, as close to sleep as he was.

“Hmm?” 

“Sorry, go to sleep.”

“No it’s alright.” He yawns and drags his thoughts into order. “I said almost nine years.”

“Semantics. Did you hire me just because you thought I was pretty?”

“No. I know that’s what everyone thought, and I’m not blind, I did notice but that’s not why.”

“Why then?”

He hums for a moment. “You know how when I hired Charlie, I said I just knew?”

“Yeah.”

“It was like that.”

“You just knew?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t understand that.”

“Sometimes, I just pick people. It happened with Sam too.”

“Why me, though?”

“It’s hard to explain. Part of it was I could tell how much you wanted it and I admired that. I thought all your lies were pretty ballsy.” He thinks back and the memory makes him smile. “You asked why it couldn’t be a place you could find yourself. ”

“Ugh, I was so annoying.”

“You were cute.” He says softly and kisses her hair.

“And what, you fell in love immediately?”

“Not immediately. I was still with Mandy, remember?”

She makes another noise of disgust. 

“Yeah… That was a mistake. Anyway. You left.”

“And I came back.”

“You always come back.” The wonder he feels at that fact is clearly audible in his voice and Donna twists herself up to kiss him.

They lose a few more minutes to kissing. Donna eventually pulls away and settles back into the crook of his shoulder.

“Tell me more about how you’ve been in love with me for nine years.”

“I’m not sure I would say in love.” He admits. “I refused to think about it for so long. I didn’t want to be that guy, you know?”

“When did you realise?”

“I’m not sure.” 

“Before Gaza?”

“Yeah, although that did kind of solidify it. I guess ‘I was in the middle before I knew I’d begun.’”

She laughs at him. “ _Pride and Prejudice_ , really?”

“I like Austen. She has an acerbic wit.”

“I always preferred _Emma_. ‘If I loved you less I could talk about it more.’”

He grips her tighter. “That too.”

“What about you?”

“I had a crush on you basically from the start.” Donna wrinkles her nose. “Mrs. Landingham pulled me aside after the election and said I could be in love or I could be a good assistant but I couldn’t be both.”

Josh laughs at that. “Oh God, that sounds just like her.”

“So I tried to put it away but I think after Rosslyn… I kind of gave up pretending, at least to myself.”

“You dated a lot.” By some miracle his voice comes out as questioning rather than accusatory.

“Yeah. It seemed kind of hopeless. I thought if I found the right guy then… Well. It never really worked.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too.” Donna’s words are half swallowed by a yawn and he kisses her hair.

“Go to sleep. We can talk about it more in the morning.”

“Do you think we’ll have time for coffee tomorrow morning?” Donna says, her voice soft and sleepy. 

The last thing Josh remembers is making a noise of agreement before sleep claims him. 

In the morning there will be time for coffee and cinnamon buns before returning to campaign headquarters. They will agree that they’ll put a serious talk about their relationship on hold until after the election, but in the end it won’t really matter because they will spend every night they can in each other’s beds and steal every minute together they can. 

The other staffers will question Josh’s sudden good temper but the surprise will quickly morph into good-natured teasing after the Congressman walks in on them kissing. Their friends will find out and all react with delight, even if Toby pretends to hide it. The President will ring up Josh to give him a serious talk, even after Josh protests that Leo gave him one already. Both men will speak to Donna too and she’ll never tell him exactly what they said, only that their love for him was blindingly obvious. 

(Leo will tell her he’s glad they figured it out, that Josh has loved her for years and she better not break his heart and the President will simply tell her to “look after that boy, Donnatella”.) 

Donna will keep Josh steady when he starts to spiral and he will encourage her to apply to Georgetown once the election is over. Josh will say he needs some air on the sixth and slip away to buy a ring. They will win but the night will still be overshadowed by a terrible loss. 

They will struggle and argue but they will always forgive each other. They will both play their part in bringing about one of the greatest periods of prosperity the United States has ever seen, and on the fourth of April, 2007, Josh will propose.

Donna will say yes.

  
  



End file.
